


Radio Musain

by with_the_monsters



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Pirate Radio, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/with_the_monsters/pseuds/with_the_monsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre is the somewhat beleaguered captain of a motley crew of pirate radio broadcasters. Eight broadcasters with huge personalities, the merry and determined ship's cook Joly and chief engineer Musichetta, the poor Prouvaire trying to keep everybody up-to-date and punctual; it felt like the ship couldn't get anymore chaotic. But then Marius Pontmercy arrives for some quality time with his cousin Combeferre at his mother's behest, and deep in the British Government, a rigorous MP named Javert sets out to bring the pirate radio stations down if it's the last thing he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radio Musain

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this post](http://orestesmartyred.tumblr.com/post/60571621905/no-but-sixties-les-mis-au-where-les-amis-run-an) on tumblr, and then further by [this addition](http://littlewadoo.tumblr.com/post/60686768017/orestesmartyred-no-but-sixties-les-mis-au-where) by Eve littlewadoo. Plus I watched The Boat That Rocked a few days ago and I couldn't resist. 
> 
> As my knowledge of pirate radio is mostly limited (with the exception of some further reading) to that film (Pirate Radio to all you US readers!), this is going to be mostly based on the film rather than set in an entirely new storyline. I hope you enjoy it!

Despite having just won a bet that meant Courfeyrac would have to play at least three Seekers songs in a row during his next broadcast, Eponine was in a foul mood. Banging her way ill-temperedly along the corridor that led to the rec room, making sure to jump and kick Bahorel’s door so he’d wake up and be out of sorts for his late-night slot, she barrelled through the door of the common room, yelled “Fuck you!” at a somewhat confused Combeferre, who had in all fairness only been sitting staring thoughtfully at a series of accounting papers, and shot up the stairs towards the booths.

Combeferre apparently remembered what had occurred during the beginning of her slot that morning, for he abandoned his accounting with barely-concealed panic and shot after her, bumping his hip on the corner of the table in his haste.

“Eponine,  _no_!” he bellowed as he gained on her, his long legs giving him an advantage up the stairs. He was, alas, too late. Eponine exploded into the booth where Enjolras was broadcasting, and without bothering to rip the headphones off his ears, smashed him backwards into the desk.

“You  _fucker_!” she screamed at him, lifting a fist will the full intent of using it, and howled in rage as Combeferre caught her arm from behind and prevented her from swinging it downwards. The three of them grappled for a few moments, rolling from side to side, a Hollys song gradually petering out into silence.

“We’ve stopped broadcasting!” Prouvaire yelled in despair, slamming his hand against the glass, “Guys, stop it, we’re radio silent!”

Unfortunately, the radio silence ended in a way Jehan had not intended, for at that moment Combeferre’s flailing elbow smacked the microphone on, and the sounds of the fight began to shriek out of the radios of half a million Brits.

“I’m going to fucking  _kill_ you!” Eponine snarled, managing to get her fingers around Enjolras’ throat, ignoring Combeferre as he desperately tried to yank her off.

“You just said –” gasped Prouvaire in horror, his head dropping into his hands, “We just broadcast  _fuck_ , oh God, we’re so done for –”

“Get  _off_ , you psychopath!” Enjolras grunted, trying to fend Eponine off without actually hurting her at all.

“What the bollocks is going on in here?” came next, as Courfeyrac arrived on the scene looking interested, dragging along behind him a young man none of them had ever seen before.

“Bollocks too,” moaned Jehan, his whole body drooping, “God help us.”

Courfeyrac plunged into the fray merrily, and with his help Combeferre and Enjolras finally managed to subdue Eponine. Clamping her arms down at her sides, Combeferre and Courfeyrac had to physically carry her, kicking and screaming, out of the booth, slamming the door behind them and leaving Enjolras, looking faintly like he’d just played the lead role in a horror film, desperately trying to do damage control.

“I am so sorry, ladies and gents,” he announced, pausing to take a great glug of water and try to calm his breathing, “That wasn’t quite the way we intended to use profanity on the radio for the first time, but Miss Jondrette does have a slight inability to control her temper –”

A dainty hand smacked a piece of paper unwaveringly against the glass in front of him, and Enjolras scowled up as Cosette, another broadcaster, glared ferociously down at him. The paper read, ‘You had better tell them it’s your fault’.

A battle of an extraordinarily brief and bitter nature was commenced silently, and then Enjolras sighed and conceded.

“I must take part of the blame,” he told his microphone, not sounding at all convinced, “I angered Eponine this morning – you may have heard – by spilling tea on her favourite record. I assure you it was an accident,” he continued, ignoring Cosette’s exaggerated grimace of disbelief, “But it may take some time for her to forgive me.”

In the rec room, Eponine shrieked, “You bet your arse it will!” at the speakers. She had, however, ceased otherwise to struggle – mostly because she’d been confronted with the extraordinary good-looks of the young man Courfeyrac was currently attempting to press biscuits on. Combeferre, judging that it might finally be safe to release her, slowly unwrapped his hands from around her arms and took a few steps back.

“Boat meeting,” he informed the room at large without looking away from Eponine, just in case she made another bid for Enjolras’ life. Courfeyrac let out a cry of delight, eager to introduce his new friend to everyone, and Combeferre heard the footsteps of his chief engineer cross the room towards the tannoy system.

“Group meeting!” she said briskly into it, and then added as an afterthought, “Even you, Feuilly.”

“Aw, that’s cruel, ‘Chetta,” Courfeyrac said, “You should let the man sleep, he’s the only one of us who has to stay up between three and six AM.”

“I often have to,” Musichetta replied without an ounce of sympathy in her voice, “You lot will insist on causing all sorts of problems for yourselves and doing the bizarrest types of damage to the ship no matter what time of the day or night it is.”

Combeferre smiled slightly as she strode back across the room, tweaked Courfeyrac’s nose in quiet reprimand, then sank gracefully into the lap of her newly-arrived boyfriend, who’d left the kitchen for the promised meeting.

Before too long, everybody was gathered, except for Enjolras, still broadcasting upstairs. Combeferre paused to take a steady look at them all – Feuilly and Bahorel bleary-eyed and yawning; Cosette sharing a cup of coffee with Grantaire; Eponine still glowering with Prouvaire next to her, arms folded and eyes bright beneath his unruly fringe; Courfeyrac with an arm around the shoulders of his new friend and Bossuet, Musichetta and Joly somehow all crammed into a single armchair.

“Right, hi, everyone,” Combeferre announced, straightening his glasses, “Group meeting for one of two reasons. First and foremost, we’re probably about to be squeezed in some new and imaginative way by the government, thanks to  _someone’s_ profane insult of Enjolras –”

“Don’t even pretend he didn’t deserve it,” Eponine interrupted, utterly unruffled.

“– overheard by all of our listeners,” he continued, ignoring her completely, “So when their new legislation comes into effect, I’m going to need you all to use those brains for something other than playing tricks on each other and help me figure out how to counter it. Second of all, and actually much more positive,” he breezed on, beckoning to the new kid, “I’d like you to welcome Marius Pontmercy aboard the Musain.”

Marius crossed the room a trifle uncertainly and sidled up beside Combeferre, who put an arm around his shoulders. “Marius is my favourite cousin –”

“He’s your  _only_ cousin,” Courfeyrac pointed out helpfully. Combeferre ignored him too.

“– and since he’s just been finished school and failed to make any significant life plans, his mother decided to send him here to get him to sort his life out.”

“What an abso-fucking-lutely  _terrible_ idea,” Bossuet announced merrily. Marius looked caught between hope and embarrassment.

“Anyway, he’s going to have to share with someone, we’re out of rooms since Grantaire moved back in.”

Grantaire lifted his coffee cup in a silent salute. There was a brief moment of tense quiet, until Courfeyrac broke it magnanimously.

“Well, Marius, if you don’t mind the  _odd_ bit of additional company,” he announced, “I’d be delighted to share with you.”

Marius muttered out a thank you, his cheeks bright red, and shuffled back to his place on the bench beside Courfeyrac, who promptly put him in a headlock to ease his shyness.

Combeferre, suppressing a smile at the whole exchange, felt his mood drop somewhat when he spotted both Cosette and Eponine staring at the newcomer with an odd sort of hunger. God. Like the boat needed any more romantic problems.

“Right, well, meeting adjourned,” he said briskly, clapping his hands, “Bossuet, you’re on in ten – and Joly, is dinner nearly ready? I’m starved.”

The room leapt into action – and total chaos. Courfeyrac led Marius cheerfully off down a corridor to get him moved in, and beneath a porthole lashed with rain Grantaire whispered something to Cosette that sent her off into peals of laughter. Musichetta disappeared downstairs to do something complicated to the ship’s engine, and various others bumped into each other as they attempted to navigate in a specific direction.

By the time the noise quietened down and Combeferre had sat himself back down behind his accounting notes, the room was empty but for Cosette, Eponine, and Grantaire holding a very fast, quiet conversation in the corner, and Feuilly fast asleep on a bench. As Combeferre watched fondly, Cosette got up and pulled a blanket over him, not breaking off whatever she was saying to Grantaire and Eponine, and returned to them.

A few minutes later, Enjolras appeared downstairs looking wary, having handed the reins over to Bossuet. From halfway up the stairs, he and Eponine eyed each other uneasily.

“I’m really sorry for spilling tea on the record,” Enjolras said at last, sounding almost like he meant it, “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Eponine glared at him for a moment or two, and everybody else held their breath. Well, except for Feuilly, who just snored lightly instead. Finally, Eponine expelled a pent-up breath, shrugged, and said, “Alright.” And that was that. Smiling, Enjolras came the rest of the way down the stairs and plonked himself next to Combeferre, reaching for some of the paper so he could help out.


End file.
